The Great Wide EmptyA Poem by Linda Marie Van TassellThe heart shall pen its final beat in brittle veins of paper skin in ode to life lived incomplete – the great wide empty born within.Your home is planted six feet down in a casket of monarch blue. A light sky crepe supports your crown to give comfort and peace to you. Flowers impart their folded breath. A flood of reckon fills the eyes; and through your death, I see my death. This fatal skin its senses rise. Empty frames embody a void, echoes lost in a wordless cry. A pantheon for Sigmund Freud, bright stars are falling from the sky. The universe is cracked in half. The dimming darkness looms above. A carved headstone and epitaph are tributes to the one thereof. Pictures not taken - going, gone. Moments lived are once and only. It falls apart, so on and on, unremembered, lost and lonely. Aching to fill the holes with light, we lick lightning’s radiant rod in Faustian realms of dark night bursting wide on the lips of God. The great wide empty heart of man sheds shadows in darkened places proffering what little it can like children with dirty faces. A hand out is a hand in need. A lock is latched upon the door. Bleeding out, we forget to bleed. Instincts harden forevermore. You lay within earth’s deep, dark keep sculpting time with fingers of bone. These are the truths we all shall reap in a wasteland of stele stone. The later years are maudlin years, whittled thin as a winding sheet. Redemptive tears are final tears with martyred dreams beneath our feet. I know the night is overdue. There is a point of no return. The flow of life from me to you no bloody ghost can overturn. The heart shall pen its final beat in brittle veins of paper skin in ode to life lived incomplete - the great wide empty born within. © 2023 Linda Marie Van TassellAuthor's NoteFeatured Review
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13 Reviews Added on April 22, 2023 Last Updated on April 22, 2023 Tags: The Great Wide Empty, Linda Marie Van Tassell, Life, Death, Dreams AuthorLinda Marie Van TassellVAAboutPoetry has been my passion since I was about fifteen years old, and I love the structure of rhyme and meter moreso than just randomly throwing words upon a page without any form whatsoever. Whi.. more..Writing
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